


Baker's Dozen

by burkygirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: A little bit of everything, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Angst and Porn, Bartender!Katniss, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Outdoor Sex, Post-Mockingjay, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Snowed In, Train Sex, Valentine's Day, Victory Tour, everlark, katniss loses a bet, photographer!peeta, toastbabies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkygirl/pseuds/burkygirl
Summary: This is a collection of ficlets and drabbles I've posted to Tumblr.  All Everlark. Chapters are rated individually.





	1. Explain it to Me Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: Explain it to Me Again. Why do we need to pretend to be married?

"Explain it to me again – why do we need to pretend to be married?”

Peeta chanced a glimpse at his girlfriend and grimaced. She looked seriously annoyed as they stood outside the restaurant waiting for his family to show up. He wrapped her in his arms and bent down to kiss her.

Katniss turned her head at the last second and his lips landed on her cheek instead.

“Aw, c’mon,” he cajoled. “I’ve already said I’m sorry a million times. She was going on and on and I couldn’t stand it anymore. It just slipped out.”

And he was sorry. Well, sorry that Katniss was mad at him anyway. He truly didn’t mean any harm by it. It had been a tactic to survive his usual telephone lecture on all the ways he was a disappointment to his mother and topping the list this month was his unmarried state and his failure to provide her with grandchildren. He’d only meant to hint that she shouldn’t make assumptions that he and Katniss weren’t committed to one another and somehow that had snowballed into a secret wedding at City Hall. The next thing he knew, his parents, his brothers and their wives were all on a plane from Panem to Seam City where he and Katniss lived. The summons to dinner had followed as soon as their plane touched the ground.

Katniss’s head fell to his shoulder and her arms slipped around his waist under his dinner jacket. “Your mother hates me. She has always hated me. This is going to be a disaster. I’m a terrible liar.”

He rubbed her back in slow circles and placed a kiss near her temple where she’d woven a tiny braid into her luxurious dark mane of hair. It travelled over her ear to just below her crown, where it joined an identical braid from the other side of her head.

“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” he whispered in her ear. Fuck, oh fuck. This wasn’t how he’d planned to ask her. What was he doing?

Katniss’s head shot up, her grey eyes like silver moons in her face. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he supposed. Peeta pulled the ring box out of his pocket. He lifted the ring out of the blue velvet cushion and slid it on Katniss’s finger. “I bought this a few months ago and I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you. Marry me, Katniss.”

“Peeta,” Katniss sputtered, too flabbergasted by the beautiful ring on her finger to find the words to protest. It was a perfect pearl, sheltered by tiny diamonds set like leaves growing from a vine of white gold that twined around her finger. It rested on her dainty finger like it was made for her. She wondered if it had been.

“Don’t say no. Just think about it,” he pleaded. “We’ll go to City Hall tomorrow and make it official.” He pulled the matching wedding band out of the box and added it to the engagement ring before bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I love you. You have to know that I love you.”

The panicked look her eyes began to soften. “I do.”

 


	2. Love in a Grocery Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years of shouldering too much responsibility, adjusting to a carefree college life hadn't been easy for Katniss. So, when Peeta’s roommate, Finnick, proposed four of them split the rent on an apartment off campus, it had seemed like a great idea to Katniss. Paying rent and buying groceries? That was something she understood, or she thought she did, until she discovered her roommates like to shop for groceries at midnight. Written in response to the prompts; "Help me please." And "Roommate."

“You said we needed spaghetti, right?” Katniss asked Peeta.

“Incoming!”

Johanna cackled in the next aisle over and launched the box of Captain Crunch over the shelving unit. Used to her antics, Peeta caught it handily and popped it into the cart, his blue eyes twinkling in Katniss’s direction.

“Yeah. I’m going to make us a big feed of spaghetti during exams next week.” 

Katniss returned to the spaghetti, attempting to calculate best value for money. He reached past her, grabbed his preferred brand, and started pushing the cart down the aisle.

“Peeta-” 

“Katniss, if I’m making dinner for everyone, then I’m going to make it with ingredients I prefer.” 

She scowled. “There’s no need to pay through the nose for-”

“Katniss,” he sighed, stopping to toss tomato paste into the car. “It’s pasta, not a car. Let it go.”

Johanna ran toward them, her arms full of ramen. She dumped it in their buggy. “On sale, Brainless.” She winked at them before running off, shouting for Finnick at the top of her lungs. He bellowed back from several aisles over. They heard a roar from Johanna and an ‘oof’ from Finnick.

“Sounds like she found him,” grinned Peeta.

Katniss shook her head. She was still trying to get used to this new way of living. The adjustment to dorm life last year had been difficult for her after years of shouldering most of the responsibility at home while her mother alternated between working too much and neglecting everything in life. It wasn’t easy to be carefree when you didn’t know what that meant. And partying until you puked just meant, well, puke. But college had also meant getting to know Peeta Mellark and learning that her days weren’t quite as bright when she didn’t see his shy smile from his room on the other side of the corridor. She’d learned that she was a rock star at first person shooter games, taking out every guy who challenged her in late night marathons in the common room while Peeta cheered her on. And finally having a female friend she could trust with her secrets (some of which she didn’t even know herself) seemed like a unexpected gift.

So, when Peeta’s roommate, Finnick, proposed the four of them split the rent on an apartment off campus, it had seemed like a great idea to Katniss. She had survived the dorm, but paying rent and buying groceries? That was something she understood, or she thought she did, until their first trip to the grocery store back in September. 

Apparently, her roommates preferred to shop for groceries at midnight. Well, Johanna insisted one night when they found themselves without snacks. It sounded like a fine idea to Finnick. Peeta shrugged good-naturedly and they stuffed Katniss into Peeta’s Cherokee. Now it was a thing.

Peeta and Katniss turned the corner to find Johanna on Finnick’s back in the cookie aisle. “I want Twinkies,” she insisted, pointing over his brawny shoulder. “And Little Debbie’s brownies.”

Peeta froze beside her. His father was a baker and he considered the little snack cakes to be an insult to the human taste bud, and the bane of his entire existence. His nose wrinkled at their very mention. The idea that they would sit on the shelf in a place where he laid his head at night? Unthinkable. Katniss bit her tongue and waited for the lecture. He didn’t disappoint.

“Jo, I told you. That over-processed, pre-packaged crap is not coming into the apartment. I won’t have it.”

Jo slid off Finnick’s back, who grinned at Katniss. His green eyes danced with mischief while he stood with his hands on his trim hips to watch Jo advance on Peeta, her brown eyes narrowed to razor thin slits. Peeta crossed his arms and frowned at the little dynamo. “It’s my turn to buy the groceries, Bread Boy, and I want my Ho-Hos.” 

“I’ll make you any cream-filled thing you want. Bake you brownies anytime you ask. But those aren’t coming home. I won’t have it.”

“Anytime I want?” Her brow crooked upwards. “What about 3 a.m. after the Hob closes?”

“Anytime.”

Jo punched him on the arm. “You’re a food snob, Mellark,” she sneered, “and you’re gonna be sorry when I haul your ass out of Brainless’s bed to bake me brownies.”

Heat raced up Katniss’s neck and she gaped at Johanna, but not before glancing over at Peeta and noticing that the tips of his ears were tinged with pink. Johanna hooted in glee, then galloped over to their roommate and jumped on his back again. She slapped him on the rear, shouting “Giddy-up, Handsome!” The two of them shot down the aisle toward the back of the store. Finnick gave an audacious wink as he passed by.

When the crazies were out of sight, Katniss turned to Peeta. “Did you?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t say anything, Katniss. You didn’t want me to. Did you?”

“No,” she denied. Then her eyes widened in consternation. “Do you think they heard you sneaking back to your room?”

Saying nothing, Peeta jerked the buggy around and headed for the produce. Katniss scurried after him, taking two steps for everyone one of his purposeful strides, but it wasn’t enough. She finally caught up with him by the tomatoes, where he was carefully palming and smelling them to find the ripest fruit for his sauce. She placed a bell pepper next to the three tomatoes he’d already selected.

“I just don’t understand why it needs to be a secret,” he muttered, staring at the mountain of produce in front of him.

It was Katniss’s turn to freeze. Had she hurt him by insisting on keeping this new development in their relationship private? “Peeta,” she said softly, as she touched his arm. He stopped and turned to look at her, the anguish evident on his face. “I just didn’t want to deal with those two idiots,” she said, jerking her head to the back of the store. Finnick and Johanna’s shouts on the other side of the store wafted toward them. The misery on Peeta’s face remained. She marked that as progress and bit her lip, her hand drifting from his elbow so that her fingertips could whisper against his cheek. “I was afraid they’d make it awkward and.., and then I’d do something stupid and wreck everything before I had a chance to figure it all out.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “It’s a little late for that, Sweetheart.” He lifted her fingers from his cheek and entwined them in his own. “You know how I feel about you, Katniss.”

She did know. She shivered, reliving the rush of joy that comes over her when he whispers those words in her ear while his body worships hers in the dark. But she still couldn’t say it, at least not yet. She could give him something, though.

“It’s real for me too, Peeta,” she confessed in a rush. The words came out so quickly, Katniss was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to make them out.

She needn’t have worried. The sudden joy on his face was bright enough to wash away the shadows from the dimmest cave.

“That’s enough for now,” he reassured her, drawing her close. She rose on her tiptoes and joined her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck when he sighed happily. Her fingers wound into his curls and Peeta grasped her hips tightly. A little thrill zipped under her skin.

Somewhere behind her, someone cleared their voice. They jerked apart to meet the gaze of the scowling night manager. His dark eyes flashed annoyance from beneath his straggly grey mop of hair.

“If you lovebirds are quite finished, you need to deal with those morons you’re travelling with,” he growled. “They’re in the seafood section.”

Nodding mutely, they pushed their cart to the back of the store. Sure enough, they found Finnick and Johanna in the seafood section. Technically, Johanna was the seafood section. She’d climbed into the empty bed of ice and was making snow angels while Finnick leaned against a cooler laughing hysterically.

Katniss snarled in frustration. “Help me,” she ordered Peeta, and they pulled their roommate out of the case. Johanna grinned at her as ice chips fell from her spiky brown hair and clattered to the floor. 

“This is the last time you two do shots before we go to the grocery store,” Katniss scolded. 

Johanna burst into fits of laughter. “You should have seen your faces,” she snickered. “I can’t believe you actually thought we didn’t know.” Johanna arched her body in mock ecstasy. “Oh! Peeta! Peeta!

Johanna twitched her fingers at Finnick and he approached her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He groaned low in his chest. “Katniss,” he rumbled, pulled Jo against him dramatically. “Kat-” Suddenly, Finnick’s perfect nose wrinkled in dismay and he pushed Johanna away. “Fuck, Jo. You smell like a rotten fish truck.”

Peeta sighed and turned the cart toward the checkouts and Katniss followed him. “You’re paying to clean my car, Jo,” he called as they walked away.

“Peeta!” Jo moaned. “Yes! Peeta. Like that!”

“Oh Katniss,” groaned Finnick. 

Katniss scowled at Peeta. “Nope. Not a bit awkward,” she bit out.

Peeta chuckled and reached for her. She slipped her arm around his waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. A chorus of “awws” broke out behind them.

“They’re just happy for us, Katniss. Ignore it and it will stop.”

Katniss sighed. It felt so good to have Peeta’s arm around her that it was impossible to care about anything else. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Always,” he replied.


	3. The One She Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in love with your best friend is hard. Not being the one she loves back is harder. Written for @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles on Tumblr. Rated T for language and references to sexuality.

I check the bag before ringing the doorbell. It’s my standard Katniss break-up kit. Two pints of Ben and Jerry’s Super Fudge Chunk, a bag of M&Ms, and the entire Harry Potter series on DVD. 

She’ll eat. She’ll cry. We’ll snuggle on the couch, and she’ll fall asleep halfway through the Prisoner of Askaban, just like she always does. I’ll hold her in my arms until morning, and for eight glorious hours, I’ll be the most important man in Katniss Everdeen’s life. The one she needs.

Just not the one she wants. 

I’ve probably been in love with Katniss since that first day of drama practice back in high school. The wrestling team had volunteered to serve as the stage crew, hauling backdrops and props on and off the set as Dorothy and Toto explored the land of Oz. I’d noticed her before, of course; the way any living, breathing teenage guy notices a pretty girl with a long dark braid, startling grey eyes and a permanent attitude. But when she opened her mouth and the first notes of “Over the Rainbow” slipped from her lips, I was spellbound. A goner.

Somewhere along the way, through the months of rehearsals, we became friends. It started with a shared smile as I rolled one piece of set into the eaves and she was taking her position. It moved on to jokes as she waited backstage for her cue and I was, well, waiting for her to notice how much I liked her. The night of the wrap party, we sat side by side on the old sofa in Finnick Odair’s rec room, sipping the vile punch Finnick had spiked with whatever he could steal from his parent’s liquor cabinet. I was working up the courage to ask her out at last. She was smiling softly, giggling, as I teased her over one stupid thing or another when that twat waffle, Marvel Williams, popped out of nowhere. 

“Hey Kat, wanna go to the movies next weekend?”

She glanced at me quickly and then turned her gaze to Marvel and shrugged. 

“Sure, I guess.”

They made plans while I tried not throw up in my cup. Eight weeks later, I found her crying by her locker. She’d caught Marvel snuggled up with Cashmere Evans. When she’d confronted him, he’d told her she was too “pure.”

Katniss’s nose wrinkled when she repeated the word ‘pure’ to me. “What do you think, Peeta?” She wiped her eyes. “Do you think I’m too pure?”

“I think you’re perfect.” She looked up at me from under her eyelashes, gave a watery chuckle, and my heart did a slow somersault. “Hey,” I flicked her chin, and settled my shoulder into the locker next to hers. “Want me to beat him up?” I really wanted her to say yes. I’d been wanting to plant my fist in his face since Finnick’s party.

She laughed again, more confident this time, and shook her head, before leaning against my shoulder. “I’m so glad we’re friends, Peeta.”

Friend-zoned. And that is where she’s kept me for the last six years. She texts me 10 times a day. She tells me everything first. When her sister drags her to the mall to shop, she sends me pictures and asks me what I think. But while I get a vote on whether those jeans make her butt look big, she never asks my opinions on the guys she dates. 

But tonight she’s going to hear it, whether she likes it or not. Switching the bag to my other hand, I ring the doorbell and bounce on my toes waiting for her to answer. When she doesn’t come to the door, I ring it again; more insistently this time. Still no answer.

I have a key to her apartment so that I can feed Buttercup, her ungrateful cat. She’s a reporter and works crazy hours. Sometimes I use it to drop off treats from my dad’s bakery when I’m passing by on my way home from there. She’s got a fondness for our cheese buns and finding ways to make Katniss smile is my favourite hobby.

I’ve never let myself into her apartment when she’s home. Until today, because she has always answered, no matter how shitty she was feeling. The apartment is in darkness, but I know she’s here. It’s only been an hour since she sent me the text announcing Cato Coughlin’s departure from her life. He is, without a doubt, the biggest dickwad she’s dated in a history of losers. 

Curiously, Buttercup is not up to his usual tricks -- winding himself around my ankles and pretending to like me just in case I drop a little treat for him. I stow the ice cream in the freezer and go off in search of my best friend.

Her bedroom door is closed, but I can hear the sniffles behind it. I push it open and find her curled up in bed. Buttercup is standing guard in the glow of the lamp on her bedside table. He blinks, shoots me a look that says, “Don’t fuck this up,” and then jumps off the bed.

I want to run across the room and gather her into my arms, but I don’t. I just lean against the door frame and cross one foot over the other. “You’ve looked better.” And it’s true. Her eyes are swollen and her hair looks like a rat’s nest. But it doesn’t matter, she still sends my pulse fluttering.

She shoots me a scowl. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me right now, after the night I’ve had. He had that slut Glimmer in his bed, Peeta!”

Ah, Glimmer Reynolds. The ex who’s been trying to get Cato back almost since he and Katniss started dating. I guess she finally succeeded. 

“He’s a douchebag. Want me to beat him up?” 

She laughs at my standard line, like always. “I wouldn’t mind it, just this once.”

I cross the room and sit on the corner of her bed, grasping her ankle through the covers and giving it a shake. “C’mon. I’ve got ice cream.”

She’s curled up on the couch, eating her ice cream out of the container and I’m sliding Sorcerer’s Stone into her DVD player, when the words slip out. “I don’t know why you bothered with him anyway, Katniss.” I don’t have to turn around to know that her spoon is frozen in mid-air. “He’s a stupid fuck if he can’t see how great you are. You can do so much better.”

The WB logo comes up on the screen and when I make my way back to the couch, she’s already digging into her ice-cream again. I’ve barely had a chance to get comfortable when she replies.

“I’m a loser magnet,” she mutters. “If there’s a loser within 100 miles, I guarantee you, he’ll find me and ask me out.”

I give her a gentle kick from my end of the couch. “You don’t have to say yes.”

She rolls her eyes. “No one decent has ever wanted me.”

I’m insulted and saddened all at once. “You truly have no idea, do you?” Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.

“What?” she demands. I can’t answer. It’s like my tongue is stuck in first gear while my mind races ahead of me. She kicks me back, not so gently this time. “Peeta! What are you talking about?”

My mouth catches up to my brain. “Katniss, you’re amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

She scoffs. “Sure. Like any normal guy would ever put up with my ridiculous work schedule.”

I tell her not to be dumb. Any guy worth having would be supportive of her career.

“I’m not pretty. I’ve got no figure to speak of.”

I’ve got a hard-on every time I’m near her, and she think’s she’s unattractive? “Stop. You’re gorgeous.”

“And I don’t trust anybody.”

“That’s not true. You’re just careful. There’s nothing wrong with that. And anyway, Cato wasn’t worth your trust. He’s more than a douchebag, Katniss. He’s a douchecanoe.”

She throws her head back and laughs until the tears roll down her face. “What the hell is that?”

“A huge douche. A douchebag big enough to haul around 50 douches.” I get a disbelieving look. “It’s true. Check Urban Dictionary if you don’t believe me.”

She chuckles and snorts, stabbing at her ice cream until she extracts a piece of fudge, before growing serious again. “You wouldn’t believe what he said to me.”

Her eyes flick to the television. Hagrid is bashing in the door to the hut on the rock. I watch her while he props it back into place before pushing her to continue.

“What Katniss? What did he say?”

She’s digging in her ice cream again, unable to look at me. “He said he couldn’t understand why I was so upset about him fucking Glimmer, since…” she blushes.

I can feel my fists clenching. I may be facing an assault charge after all. “What. Did he. Say.”

“Since you and I having been screwing around for years,” she blurts out. “And I told him that he was wrong, that we were only friends, and you could never want me that way, and he said that was bullshit. He’d seen the way you look at me.”

Huh. Cato was still a double XL asshole. Just maybe not as stupid as I’d thought. I chew on the inside of my cheek, searching for a comeback, but for once, I’m totally without words. 

“Peeta?”

My heart is pounding. My face is hot. I rub my sweaty palms on my legs, and I know, this is it. I lick my lips and let the words fly free. 

“What makes you think I could never want you like that?” I croak it out like a frog, but I don’t care. At least it’s out there and she can’t ignore it anymore.

Her gaze becomes puzzled. “Because we’re friends. Because you’re the best man I know. Because you’ve never said anything or tried anything. Because…”

“Because you’ve never truly looked at me, Katniss.”

The sorting hat is hovering over Harry’s head when she pauses the movie. She tosses the ice cream carton on the coffee table and stalks to the living room window to stare at the lights of the cars whipping past the building 10 stories below. 

She wraps her arms around herself. “No, that’s not true,” she insists, shaking her head. “No. I would have noticed.”

I am glued to my spot on the sofa. “Katniss-”

“You!” She points at me accusingly. “You- You’ve had girlfriends. Lots of them.”

The crack of my hands slapping against my knees as I stand up fills the room. “Yes!” I shout, and run my fingers through my hair in frustration. “Yes, I’ve had girlfriends. I’m not a monk, Katniss, and you’re not interested, so…”

She’s watching out the window again. “I never said that.” 

The words are almost a whisper, but they turn me into a statue. Time stops, but I manage to move my lips. “What?”

She turns around to face me. “I never said I wasn’t interested.”

My heart resumes beating, a tiny flutter of hope takes hold, but still I stand there, frozen. “You are?”

She she shrugs and twists what’s left of her trademark braid around her finger. “Yeah, but I figured you weren’t… I mean, you’ve never said anything.”

I hold out my arms, and suddenly she’s there, wrapped around my chest, her head tucked under my chin like it belongs there. I lay my cheek against the top of her head, and exhale slowly.

“I tried, Katniss. I tried so many times. But I was afraid I’d lose you. I’d rather have this much of you, than nothing at all.”

She shudders and then pulls back enough to look at me. “You’re my best friend. You could never lose me and I-”

I lay my finger over her lips. She’s said those three words to me before, but I don’t ever want to hear them from her again. At least, not so close to the word ‘friend’. 

Framing her cheeks in my hands, I place a kiss against her forehead. Then, drawing back, my thumbs stroke lightly against her cheekbones as I gaze into her eyes; pools of molten silver, flecked with gold. I brush my nose against hers, our lips hovering only an inch apart, until finally, her eyelids flutter closed.

The first touch of our lips is tentative, like the first taste of an exotic new dish you immediately know will become your favourite. Then she sinks into my arms with a moan, her arms sliding up my back as I tug her snug against me. Her fingers find my hair, tugging slightly at the roots even as our mouths open and our tongues tangle together. 

A charge zips through my body, my heart pounds and I know I could fly if only I had wings. It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had, the most perfect. 

I always knew she was perfect. 

Better yet, this is perfect.

When we finally pull apart, it feels like I’ve lived a lifetime in the five minutes I’ve held her in my arms. Her lips are swollen; her eyes, luminous and dancing. She embraces me once more, softly, before settling her cheek against my chest again with a satisfied sigh. The apartment so quiet that I can hear our hearts beating in time with the kitchen clock. 

So I ask her, because after six years of waiting and the most incredible kiss of my life, I need to know. I’m past holding back. “You love me, real or not real?”

The five seconds it takes her to raise her head and look me in the eye feel like an eternity, but they are worth it.

“Real,” she says, with a smile full of joy that is meant just for me.


	4. Hammered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Love in a Grocery Store, written for @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles on Tumblr. Rated T.

Peeta’s pink tongue was peeking out from between his lips as he applied glue to the groove in the wood. He jammed the wooden tongue of a second piece of wood into the groove and held out his hand to his girlfriend, who was seated beside him on the mattress.

“Pass me the hammer, Katniss.”

Scowling, Katniss rooted around inside the plastic bag they’d gotten during their early morning trip to the hardware store until the hammer surfaced. She passed it to Peeta. “Quietly, please.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Just how exactly do you propose that I hammer quietly, Katniss?” 

“I don’t know,” she hissed. “Tap rather than bang? Give me a minute to see if they’re home.”

Katniss poked her nose outside the door and looked up and down the hall of the apartment she and Peeta shared with their friends Johanna and Finnick. Seeing no one, she slipped out the door and padded toward the kitchen on silent feet. Both Finn and Jo’s rooms were empty. Crossing her fingers that they hadn’t come home last night, Katniss entered the kitchen. She failed to suppress her scowl when she found them sitting at the table, grinning like maniacs.

Instead she shuffled to the cabinets and pulled down two mugs. She started the kettle for Peeta’s tea, dropped a teabag in the cup and then poured what was left of the coffee into her own mug. Keeping her back to Finn and Jo, she added sugar to her coffee and then turned to get the milk from the fridge. 

“Did you sleep well, Princess?” sneared Jo.

Katniss ignored her and grabbed the carton of milk. 

“Guess not,” said Finn mildly as he lifted his mug to sip a syrup Katniss knew was more sugar than coffee. “I was wide awake after that big crash around midnight. Did you hear it, Katniss?”

The kettle whistled and Katniss went back to the cabinets to shut it off. She poured hot water on the tea bag and crushed it against the side of the cup with her spoon. She watched the water swirl to brown and contemplated her reply to Jo and Finn.

“Are you deaf as well, Brainless?”

The sound of hammering filled the air. 

“That’s it!” Jo slammed her hand against the table. “What the hell is going on down there? Crashing and banging half the night and then again in the morning...” Jo grabbed her mug and stomped down the hall toward Katniss’s bedroom, her robe swirling behind her like a cape. Ignoring the brief mental flash of Jo in a pointy hat and riding a bicycle, Katniss grabbed her mugs and chased Jo down the hall to her room, but it was too late.

Jo threw open the door. There stood Peeta, the cross piece of Katniss’s footboard braced between his knees as he drove a nail through one of the legs to reconnect it. He paused mid-swing and looked up, three nails pursed in his lips. Mortified, Katniss caught his eye from over Jo’s shoulder and he had the decency to look guilty.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Jo dragged the word out for so long, Katniss was certain she’d added four more syllables. 

Katniss heard Finnick whistle behind her and felt her face grow even warmer. “Well done, Peet.”

Peeta shrugged and pulled the nails from his mouth. “Sorry about the noise.”

Johanna’s eyes flitted between them. “You broke the bed?” Peeta shrugged again. Jo snorted and began to laugh before turning to point at Katniss, who gaped at her wide-eyed. “You broke the fucking bed!” 

“It’s been getting a lot of use lately,” Peeta pointed out, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. Katniss was so grateful he’d managed to divert Jo’s attention back onto him, that she didn’t bother to care about what he’d implied. 

“Peet, you’re a legend,” grinned Finnick with an approving nod.

Jo continued to howl. “Brainless, you need to keep this guy,” she called as she headed back to the kitchen, a chuckling Finnick in her wake. 

Katniss stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with her toe. It clicked softly closed and she handed Peeta his mug. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “When you didn’t come back, I figured we were busted.” 

“Yeah,” she admitted. “They were waiting for me. You know I have no swagger.”

They each took a long sip of their drinks, watching each other over the rims of their mugs. Their lips twitched as they tried to drink. When the laughter finally overtook Katniss, she put her mug down on the bookshelf to keep from spitting her coffee on the floor. Peeta wasn’t quite fast enough.

“Well done, Peet,” she snorted and then broke into giggles again.

“Fuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuuk,” he chuckled, setting his mug on her dresser before dropping onto the mattress. Katniss plopped down beside him and lay back. Soon she was looking into his bright eyes. They were filled with mirth.

“You’re a legend,” she told him with a grin. 

“You need to keep me,” he reminded her, and wriggled closer.

Katniss laced her fingers with his own and stared up at the ceiling while she rubbed her thumb against his. “I was planning on it.” She looked back at Peeta. “Are you sure you can fix it?”

He nodded. “Are you sure you want me to? This puppy made a whole lot less noise once the box spring was on the floor.”

She kissed his nose. “Have to. If my mother shows up and I’m sleeping on the floor after she gave me a bed, I’m gonna have some explaining to do.” Peeta laughed and asked if she’d notice the repair job. “She’s not that observant,” Katniss replied. 

Peeta rolled toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist tugging just enough to cause her to wriggle over to him. “Well, maybe we should enjoy it once more before put it back together,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows and smoothing her hair away from her face. 

His thumb traced her cheekbone and Katniss threw her leg over his hip and rolled him onto his back. “We could do that,” she replied, taking his lower lip into his mouth and tugging gently. “Take advantage of the situation and all.”

Peeta’s hands slid under her t-shirt and pulled it over her head. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”


	5. Wintery Headcanon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to an ask from @arbyeatscheesebuns, "Hey! What are your favourite Everlark snowy, wintry head canons?", In Panem, post-Mockingjay. Rated T.

“It’s the apocalypse,” I grouse as the snow whirls outside the living room window. In the last 24 hours, the winter wonderland of the Victors’ Village has transformed into a barren landscape. Peeta and I went outside an hour ago to shovel our walkway and it’s beginning to fill in already. We checked to make sure Haymitch had a fire and something to eat while we were out there and the trail of boot prints between our house and his place has already disappeared.

“C'mere. If the end is near, I want to spend it with you,” Peeta tells me, rising on his elbow from our nest of blankets in front of the fire. He holds out his hand to me and I scuff across the floor in his wool socks to snuggle against his bare chest under the covers. 

“You should probably put some clothes on,” I tell him. “It’s going to get colder in here now that the power’s out.“ 

Peeta laughs and plucks at the shirt I’m wearing. "Katniss, you’re wearing my shirt and my socks.“ 

“I couldn’t stand in the window naked,” I scoff.

He rolls so that I’m on top of him and makes a weak attempt to get his shirt back. “Well, if you’re so concerned that I’ll freeze to death, give it back.” 

I playfully push his hands away and tell him I’m going to keep it. 

“I’ll be cold.”

His hands are sliding up my bare thighs when his eyebrow quirks up and he gives me a sly grin. “Don’t worry. I warmed you up before. I can do it again.”


	6. Perfect Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A toastbaby gets her name duing her first moments in the world. Written in response to the prompt: "Well, that's the single most impressive thing I've ever seen someone do." Peeta's POV. In Panem, Post-Mockingjay. Rated G.

A/N -- This prompt inspired a scene that’s been done a million times. Just never by me. Enjoy!

“Well, that’s the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen someone do,” Peeta said in his wife’s ear, as his mother-in-law laid their new baby girl on Katniss’s chest. “You’re amazing.” Katniss sobbed and curled forward to kiss the dark hairs on their daughter’s – their daughter’s! – tiny head. For 12 long hours, Peeta had massaged and soothed and supported his wife as she laboured to bring their baby into the world. His body ached and Katniss had done all the work. 

Now, she was here and his heart was so full of love it felt as though the sun was rising in his chest instead of over the horizon out their bedroom window. He watched in awe as Katniss cradled the new life they had made together in her arms. Unable to hold back any longer, he gently stroked her shoulder and then laid his hand over Katniss’s on the baby’s back. “She’s perfect,” he marvelled. 

And she was. There were 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. Perfect pouty lips, pursed as though to kiss a fairy. Her head was covered in dark hair, and long lashes lay against her rosy cheeks. The last nine months had been hard on Katniss, as she battled depression and her fears over the many uncertainties they both knew existed in this fragile new world they had helped to build. Peeta had his own fears, ones he’d been afraid to voice in case it made them real. The Capitol had pumped him full of poisons, starved him, beat him within an inch of his life. What if those traumas somehow affected the baby he and Katniss had wanted so desperately? He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his daughter’s forehead and knew that the doctors had been right. Everything was going to be just fine.

His eyes locked with his wife’s. “I love you,” Katniss whispered. 

“I love you too,” he assured her. “Thank you so much, Katniss.” 

The babe made tiny noises and rooted around on her mother’s breast.

Lily Everdeen chuckled, the joy and exhaustion evident on her face. She’d been with them every second. “She’s hungry, Katniss. I’ll clean her up and check her over so that you can nurse her.” 

“No.” Her body still charged with adrenalin and hormones, Katniss’s protective instincts were on overdrive and she wrapped her arms protectively around the baby. 

Lily smiled and handed Peeta the scissors. “Cut the cord, Peeta.” 

He obeyed and then perched on the side of the bed to wrap his arm around Katniss’s shoulders. “She’s cold, sweetheart. Let’s get her in a nice warm blanket and then you can have her back.” Katniss nodded and finally giving into exhaustion, laid her head against his chest. 

Her mother whisked the baby away, swiftly wiping, measuring and weighing the baby, now howling in protest. She wrapped her in a warm, flannel blanket, rocking and shushing her new grandbaby as she crossed the room back to Katniss, cooing softly about how beautiful she was. Katniss held out her arms impatiently. Once the baby was back in her arms, she listened carefully to her mother’s instructions of how to bring the baby to her breast.

Peeta settled down to watch, holding everything that was important to him in his life in his arms, and stroked the baby’s downy cheek with his thumb.

“What are you going to call her?” Lily asked from the foot of the bed where she was cleaning up Katniss. 

Katniss looked at Peeta wide-eyed. She had stubbornly refused to discuss names throughout the entire pregnancy, superstitiously clinging to the idea that naming the baby before she arrived could cause something to go wrong. But Peeta knew what he wanted to call her. 

“What about Hope?” he suggested. 

Katniss looked down at the baby who heaved a sigh and let go of her mother’s breast, fast asleep.

“Hope,” Katniss mused thoughtfully. “It’s perfect.”


	7. Valentine's Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little PWP for Valentine's Day. Written for @loveinpanem's Love Is... challenge on Tumblr. Modern AU.
> 
> Rated E, NSFW.

AN -- I had my The One universe in mind when I wrote this smutty little one shot. In the end, I decided that other than a peek into Peeta's classroom at Cinna's school, it didn't offer anything additional to that world, so I decided to post it separately, but I thought I'd mention it, just in case you've read The One and that knowledge adds to the fun of this.

* * *

Peeta Mellark paced softly around the perimeter of his classroom, peering over his students’ shoulders in the sun-dappled studio where they perched on stools before their easels, transferring the still life in front of them to canvas. Their subject matter was non-traditional, but Peeta had allowed them to choose it for themselves, thinking it would hold their interest for longer than the usual bowl of fruit or vase of flowers. The focus on a realistic depiction of the arrangement on the table remained the same, even if the objects consisted of an iPhone, a set of earbuds, a water bottle and a clutch of grocery store daisies plonked unceremoniously into a cup usually used for rinsing paint brushes.

“Ah, Peeta, I mean Mr. Mellark?”

“Yes, Lacey.” He swallowed a grin. Most of the teachers at the prestigious fine arts academy where he taught allowed students to call them by their first names. Peeta, who began his career in the public school system, did not.

“Your phone is buzzing.”

Peeta looked at the carefully arranged items on the table and saw that his phone was, in fact, vibrating. His girlfriend’s picture filled the screen, her raven waves falling about her shoulders and her silver eyes laughing even though her lips only hinted at a smile. Strange, Katniss almost never texted him during the day. She was too busy running her marketing-communications agency and she knew that his firm rule about no texting in class applied to him too.

“Whoa, Mr. Mellark! That your girl?”

The admiring voice belonged to a lanky teen whose legs were wrapped around his stool. “Yes, that’s Katniss.” Peeta’s eyes slid from the youth to the clock. “OK folks, that’s it for today. We’ll pick this up again next week. For Monday, I want 250 words on the history and significance of the still-life genre.” The class groaned. “C’mon guys, that’s like half a page, typed. Have a great weekend.”

The room filled with the sound of wooden stools scraping across the floor as his students stood up, tidied their work areas and stowed their canvases in their assigned spots. A few ‘See ya, Mr. Mellark’s later, he was alone at last and snatched up his phone, hoping against hope that nothing was wrong. Surely Katniss would call the front office if there was a crisis.

A quick swipe across the screen and he found the text.

 **Kupcake** : I might be late picking you up. I need to run to a store before we head out this weekend. <3

He typed a quick okay to his Kupcake and grinned as he pressed send. She’d kill him if she knew that was how he had her programmed into his phone.

Peeta was wandering the studio, gathering up forgotten brushes and palettes when his back pocket buzzed. He whipped out his phone and was surprised to see yet another incoming message from Katniss.

 **Kupcake:** Option #1.

There was a picture attached. Holy hell. Was that what he thought it was? It couldn’t be. Not his Katniss. He touched the picture to blow it up. Sure enough, there was his girl, sneaking a picture in a dressing room mirror. She wore a short black negligee; its crocheted lace strategically placed to both subtly camouflage and accent the feminine secrets hidden beneath the sheer fabric.

His cock twitched to life and he imagined how much fun it would be to peel her out of that little number once they were safely ensconced at the bed and breakfast he’d booked to celebrate their very first Valentine’s Day as a couple. The phone buzzed again.

 **Kupcake:** Option #2.

Another one? A new pic zoomed in. This time the nightie was lacy and plum-coloured, which set off her olive skin perfectly. Her dusky nipples were faint shadows beneath the fabric.

His pants grew uncomfortably tight. How the hell was he going to get out of the building without someone noticing his raging hard-on?

 **Me:** You’re killing me here.

 **Kupcake:** ;D Part of your V-day present is picking one. Option #3.

Another picture landed in his phone. Katniss was wearing a satin teddy in a soft orange, cut high over her hips and plunging deeply between her breasts where the satin criss-crossed in tiny strips all the way to her navel.

Fuck. He typed quickly.

 **Me:** That one. That’s the one. Buy it. Wear it this weekend. Wear it out of the store. Whatever. I don’t care. Just get here.

 **Kupcake:** On my way.

Twenty minutes later, Katniss pulled up in front of the school. Peeta was waiting for her outside the doors, his messenger bag strategically placed to cover his still burning arousal. She shot him a demure smile as he slid in beside her. He wondered if he could convince her to pull over somewhere and let him have his way with her.

“Hi,” she murmured. “How was your day?”

So that was how it was going to be, was it?

“Just fine. The kids were awesome today. You?”

“Fine,” she replied, changing gears on her little Toyota as they left the busy downtown for the residential neighbourhood where they lived. He watched her knee appear between the front flaps of her long wool coat as her right foot, shod in high black boots, moved from the gas to the brake and back again. “Jo scored an awesome new account. A new car dealership wants a campaign that appeals to women,” she chuckled. “Jo is going to start interviewing male models tomorrow.”

“I’ll bet,” he snorted. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

Her pink tongue slipped over lips still sporting just a hint of the clear lip gloss she favoured. “Oh, whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“Something simple then.” She nodded, her hand clutching the gear shift tightly. Peeta slipped his hand to her bare knee and gave it a squeeze. “I missed you today. I can’t wait for us to slip out of town for a few days. It’ll be great, you know? To just get a break from everything.”

She nodded again and turned onto their street. Just two more blocks and they’d be home. And then they’d see where this little game she’d started would end. Peeta tried to slip his hand up her thigh, but the buttons of her coat blocked his fingers from stroking any higher than the bit of exposed skin just above her knee.

“Almost home,” she offered, and he looked away from her legs to see that their little mid-century house was only seconds away. Unbuttoning her coat could wait then. Katniss pulled her car in the driveway behind his and quickly set the parking brake and turned the car off. She grabbed her oversized purse from the back seat and all but jumped from the car, stepping quickly to the front door. Peeta followed on her heels, still so horny he could barely think.

Katniss slipped her key into the door and after a couple of failed tries, managed to let them into the house. She dropped her purse on the table and turned to face him.

He took a deep breath. “Katniss-”

“Shut up, Peeta.” She pushed him against the door, tossing his bag next to the little table in the entryway where they left their keys each night. Her fingers trembled as they reached for the buttons of her long coat. Without taking her eyes from his, Katniss released each one and then shrugged the coat to the floor. Except for the tiny orange teddy and her tall boots, she was completely naked.

He couldn’t breathe. He was going to pass out. Or come in his pants. Both probably. First the latter, then the former.

His reaction seemed to embolden her. “Nothing to say, Peeta?” He shook his head, still trying to slow his heart rate. If he made a move right now, their coupling would be quick and a bit rougher than he preferred to treat her. There was a real possibility that the teddy wouldn’t last to the weekend. Ripping it off sounded like a fantastic idea just that minute.

Katniss reached up to loosen his tie, her nimble fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. She tugged it from the waistband of his pants and then reached for his belt, flicking it open and releasing his button. Her finger traced along his zipper and he groaned.

“Seems like you want something, Peeta.”

“You,” he rasped. “I want you, always. That was quite a little show you gave me.”

“Did you like that?” She opened his fly and he almost cried out in relief. With one quick wriggle of his hips, the pants were at his knees. Now he just needed to unsnap the crotch of the teddy, flip it over her hips and bury his cock inside her. She could just brace her hands on the door… His mind was so involved in the fantasy, he was surprised when she dropped to her knees, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs. She licked her palm and took him firmly in hand. His head knocked against the steel door as it fell back.

“Damn, Katniss, that turned me on so much I didn’t think I’d make it home without asking you to veer off somewhere private.” Katniss tossed him a wink and then ran her tongue from the base of his penis slowly, slowly to the groove just below the head. She traced the narrow channel and then, flattening her tongue, took him into her mouth, groaning softly.

He hissed at the contact. If heaven was a real place, then it felt like his dick in Katniss’s mouth because he could think of nothing better on this Earth, except possibly plunging balls deep into her pussy. Her tongue circled the head and then she hollowed her cheeks taking him ever deeper inside. He gathered her hair in his hand and wrapped it around his fist, pulling gently. She sighed in pleasure and then slid back up his shaft before plunging down upon him again, caressing the part of his erection that she couldn’t take in. She began to bob her head, fucking him with her mouth before reaching down to fondle his sac with her free hand.

Peeta cursed. “Yeah like that,” he muttered. She looked up at him, grey eyes glittering with passion. “Don’t stop, Katniss. Then I’m gonna show my appreciation. I bet your pussy’s just throbbing isn’t it?”

The groan that rumbled from Katniss’s throat sent a vibration right up his cock. His hips lifted slightly from the door in response and his eyes closed as he focused on the building pressure in his balls and the tingle running down his spine.

“I’m going to lick you until you scream, Katniss. Right here. And then I’m going to bend you over and take you until you can’t stand up.”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know she was squirming for relief on the floor. “Don’t even think about touching yourself,” he ordered. “Not after that little slide show today.”

She moaned again, picking up the pace. Peeta gave up on trying to hold back, taking her head into his hands, knowing his release was almost upon him. Then Katniss took even more of him into her mouth and gave his balls a tug. He exploded, calling her name even as he unloaded into her throat.

When he could think, he opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him. “You’ve got a promise to keep, Mellark.”

Peeta held out his hand to raise her from the floor. When she stood before him, he yanked the cups of the teddy down and exposed her breasts. He suckled each one in turn before reaching down to release the snaps between her legs. The scrap of fabric was soaked with her arousal.

He kissed her deeply, their tongues stroking and sliding in a practiced dance. Then he turned her and placed both hands on the door.

“Hang on, Kupcake. I’m about to have dessert.”


	8. Dicktator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss wonders how Peeta measures up. A College AU written for @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles on Tumblr. Rated M.

Katniss curls her leg over Peeta’s and contentedly settles her head on his chest. His heartbeat is pounding in time with her own. She smiles smugly, her fingers tracing lazy circles in the downy hair on his breast bone.

She peers up at her boyfriend, who has flung his free arm over his eyes. All she can see of his handsome face is the strong line of his jaw, peppered by a golden stubble. He never bothers to shave on his days off, partly to give his skin a break, but mostly to make his mother crazy. Katniss doesn’t care. The way it scrapes on her inner thighs makes her crazy in a completely different way.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” 

“That’s good.” Peeta’s voice is sleepy.

She raises herself on her elbow and scowls down at him. “That’s good? Are you kidding me?”

His arm falls over his head and his blue eyes twinkle up at her. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause it means you didn’t kill me. And really, after that, I should be dead. Those orange shorts are a deadly weapon, Katniss.”

She glances over to where the bootie shorts lie in a puddle in the middle of his bedroom floor. She’s pretty sure her bra is twisted in the covers somewhere. Maybe. Hopefully they didn’t leave it in the hall. She hums, flustered, and wriggles up the bed until her face is beside his on the pillow. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

He grins over at her. “They say it’s how you use it, not the size, that matters.”

Katniss scoffs. “That’s a lie women tell small men.” When Peeta’s eyes widen in surprise, she’s quick to stammer, “Not that I’d know, because you know, of course, there’s only been you and we’ve only just…”

“Keep digging, Everdeen. You’re almost all the way to China.”

She rolls to her back and blows out a breath that makes her bangs flutter. “Anyway. Girls talk too. And you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

His answering chuckle lets her off the hook, but a question pops into her brain and she can’t stop it before it crosses her lips. “How big is the average guy anyway, Peeta?” She’s staring at the ceiling, but catches his palm slapping his face anyway.

“God, Katniss. It’s not like I stare at the other guys’ junk in the locker room!”

“C’mon,” she cajoles, delighted by his red face. “You’re all lined up at the urinals. You must have some idea.”

“I don’t know,” he groans in exasperation. “Depends on a lot of things. The average white guy is about six inches or so, I guess.”

Katniss’s gaze flicks down at Peeta’s semi-hard dick. “Oh,” she says thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What!”

She shrugs. “I feel sorry for those girls. You’re bigger than that.”

Peeta shakes his head and laughs. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Katniss jumps out of bed and starts rifling through the covers in search of her underwear. She finds them, tangled with her bra between the sheets at the foot of the bed. 

“Hey!” Peeta protests. “Where are you going?”

“When does your mother get home from book club?” She zips up the shorts, briefly considering having them bronzed, or framed at least, because Peeta’s reaction to them makes life worth living. 

He glances at the clock while she struggles into her t-shirt. “Another half hour or so. Come back to bed, Katniss. Our work schedules are crazy this summer. This is the only chance we’ve got to be alone until next week.”

“Does she still keep her sewing stuff in the seat of her sewing bench?”

Peeta runs his fingers through his hair, which is already so adorably mussed that it stands on end. “What? Yeah, I guess so. What are you going on about?”

Shouting that she’d be right back, Katniss dashes down the hall to the guest room where Peeta’s mother keeps her sewing machine. She lifts the cover off the little bench where Mrs. Mellark sits to hem work pants and fix curtains and quickly finds what she’s looking for. She’s snapping the blue rubber tape between her hands when she re-enters Peeta’s bedroom. 

“Katniss? What are you up to?”

She smirks. “Don’t you want to know? I want to know.”

“Katniss…” His voice takes on a warning tone. 

“C’mon Peeta,” her voice drops to a tone she’s only recently discovered. It’s deep and sultry and just barely sounds like her. She flicks the button on her shorts open and slowly pulls the zipper down. “It’ll be fun.” Her eyebrow quirks and she shimmies her hips so that the shorts fall to the floor. “I’ll make it worth your while.” She licks her lips and suppresses a grin when she notices that he’s hard for her again. 

“Take it all off Katniss,” his voice is a little hoarse, but she’s pleased he’s decided to play along. Her other clothes drop on top of the shorts. 

“You’re going to have some work to do,” he husks. “To make it hard again.”

She glances down at him. “Seems pretty hard to me.”

Peeta shakes his head and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Nope.” He pops the P. “If you think you’re getting anywhere near him,” he points to his crotch, “with that,” he clarifies, pointing to the measuring tape now wrapped around her neck and dangling between her breasts, “then he deserves the best showing possible.” 

She bites her lip and then laughs. “You’re a dictator, Peeta Mellark.” Peeta grins at her and wiggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, I said it,” she insists as she kneels before him. “A dicktator. With a K.”

Cupping his sac in one hand, she takes his cock in the other, and flattening her tongue runs it all the way up, from base to tip. She looks up from the floor to see Peeta watching her intently, his eyes hooded and his lips slightly parted. He combs her hair from her face, brushing his thumb gently against her temple. She turns her face slightly to place a kiss against his palm, then turns her attentions back to him, tonguing a lazy circle around the head before taking him into her mouth. Her lips slide down the shaft slowly, until they meet the fist she has wrapped around the base.

“Fuck, Katniss,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.” Katniss hollows out her cheeks and begins to move her hand and her mouth in unison. His hand fists in her hair as he makes noises of approval, but continues to give her all the freedom she needs to control the speed and depth of her movements. Her tongue flicks over the head with every downward stroke as she picks up speed. He swears again and lets go of her hair to lean back on his hands on the bed. She watches his head tilt back and his breathing shallow, loving the trust and the power that flows between them. A pressure builds inside her as well, making her wet and hot between her legs. Her clit begs for attention, and when she slips her hand from his sac to finger herself, the relief is so great it almost makes her come. She issues a long, low moan from a place so deep in her belly, she isn’t sure she recognizes the sound. 

“Ah! Fuck Katniss,” Peeta growls. “Whatever you’re going to do, you better do it before I blow my load.”

Quick as a flash, Katniss jumps to her feet and places the end of the measuring tape at the base of his cock near his belly. She lays it along the rigid shaft, grins and then tosses it onto the floor while pushing him onto his back.

“Condom?”

“On the night table,” he rasps. “Quickly. We only have about 10 more minutes.”

Katniss rips the package open, rolls it on and quickly straddles him. They both groan in approval. She raises her hips again and slides back down. “Fuck, Peeta. You feel so good.”

He lifts her hips and she slams against him again. “Well? Don’t I get to know?”

She chuckles and leans forward to kiss him with swollen lips. “I was right about you,” she crows as she rocks against him. “An absolute dicktator.” Peeta snorts and she grins, continuing to move. “Penisaurus Rex.”

Peeta’s hands capture her bouncing breasts and roll her nipples between his thumbs. “I score a 10, huh?” he asks playfully.

She braces herself to ride him more fully and gives him a saucy grin. “A solid 8 inches, I’d say.”

“Hmm. Seems to me that you better show Rex some appreciation.”

So she does.


	9. The Truck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shiny black half-ton shouldn’t have pissed her off. She shouldn’t have scowled at the way it sparkled in the late afternoon sun, shouldn’t have pursed her lips and sniped that “it must be nice.” Shouldn’t have taken satisfaction in the hurt look on his face as she flounced self-righteously into the house. But that’s exactly the way it went down. Rated M for smut and f-bombs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little nugget of angst-filled smut was written to celebrate the birthday of my dear friend @xerxia31

The minute I heard the hum of Peeta’s new truck in the driveway, I was unimpressed. It was the first major purchase by either of us since we moved in together a few months ago, and I guess I’d just assumed we’d buy our next vehicle together. After all, both of our college cars are entering into their geriatric years. His Jeep wheezes and gasps up the hill toward our little house. Every bolt in my shitty red Corolla rattles the minute I turn the key.

He was barely out of the driver’s seat before he started going on and on about how useful it’s going to be and how much he’s going to save on Jeep repairs. He showed me the extended cab with the front bench seat and laughed about how I could snuggle up beside him. 

I couldn’t enjoy his enthusiasm. I was too upset that he left me out of the decision-making. But since I’m the one to blame for that, I can’t complain.

His. Mine. Ours. When we set up our house, I neatly divided everything in my mind. His money, my money. His crap, my treasures. My couch is in our living room. His easel is in what should be our dining room, but since neither of us had a table and the light was best in there, that’s where it ended up.

I’m the one who insisted on maintaining our separate accounts and each writing a cheque for half of the rent every month. Our shared bills were divided equally and in spite of his protests that he could cover the groceries every week, I faithfully stand at the cash every second trip to the market, while he packs the bags and I ignore his frowns.

And so the shiny black half-ton shouldn’t have pissed me off. After all, its his, paid for by his money from his trust fund. I shouldn’t have scowled at the way it sparkled in the late afternoon sun, shouldn’t  have pursed my lips and sniped that “it must be nice.” Shouldn’t have taken satisfaction in the hurt look on his face as I flounced self-righteously into the house. But that’s exactly the way it went down. 

Now it’s getting dark outside and I’m lying alone on our bed (his mattress, my frame) and I’m feeling increasingly petty and horribly, overwhelmingly guilty for spoiling his joy over his new purchase. 

Peeta’s feet thud up the stairs and I hold my breath, hoping he’s coming in to check on me, but he doesn’t. Instead the bathroom fan buzzes while he bangs around in there before pounding back down the steps. He opens the front door, slams it closed and then it whooshes open minutes later as he comes in. Back up the staircase, more banging, then out the door again. 

Next, he’s rattling around the kitchen beneath me. The cupboard doors clatter, the dishes rattle, the fridge door opens and closes a few times then he’s out and in the door one more time. It happens again before I figure it out. 

Peeta is leaving me. 

I’ve done it. I’ve finally pushed him away. I suppose it was just a matter of time before he figured out what a selfish, insecure pain in the ass I can be and decided that enough was enough.

Alone in the growing darkness, I listen to him moving about the house while my heart bleeds out onto our bed. I clutch his pillow, inhaling the musky male scent that permeates everything he owns and appreciating the way it mingles with the spicy smell of his shampoo. My tears fall a little faster as I realize this is the last time I’ll be able to enjoy it.

The bedroom door swings open and I’m bathed in the overhead light, squinting toward the door frame where Peeta stands with his hands on his hips, watching me with a displeased look on his face. He sighs. 

“I need you to get up.” 

I scramble off the bed, still clinging to his pillow. I watch, the golf ball-sized lump in my throat growing ever larger, as he strips the mattress of its comforter and my pillow. I want to scream, to cry, to beg him not to do this, but the words can’t make their way past the suffocating barrier and even if I could reach down deep enough to pull them out, anything I’d say would probably just make things worse anyway. Nevertheless, when he attempts to pull his pillow from my clutches, I manage to gasp out two.

“Peeta, please.”

He stares down at me for what feels like an eternity. I’m afraid to move in case I jinx it all. Finally, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pulling the pillow from my arms. He’s on his way out the door, his arms full of our bedding, when he glances over his shoulder at my crumpled frame standing in the middle of the room.

“Get in the truck, Katniss.”

I can’t speak without crying, so I just follow. I can’t even look at what’s heaped up in the backseat as I clamber up into the truck. Peeta shoves our blanket and pillows on top of the pile and jumps into the driver’s seat. Before long, we’re on the main road leading out of town. I stare out the passenger’s side window, refusing to enjoy how much higher the truck sits than my little car. I don’t notice how comfortable the seats are and pay no attention to the glow of the satellite radio or the gizmos and gadgets on the dash. 

Instead, my eyes flit toward Peeta. He’s drumming on the steering wheel while he chews on his lower lip. I wait for him to spit it out. 

“You know I don’t care about the money. I’ve never cared about the money.”

I snort. Peeta and I went to the same private university. I was there on a scholarship, which meant I spent every minute that I wasn’t with Peeta studying or working, just to be able to stay there. Peeta had a wrestling scholarship, but even if he’d been dropped from the team, his successful parents would have been able to cover his tuition. Frankly, they could have paid for any school he wanted to attend. “So says the guy who’s never had to worry about money a day in his life. Trust me, it’s important.”

“Fuck! Katniss!” Peeta slams his hand on the steering wheel. “You’re being completely unfair. I don’t waste money. I live a simple life. And yeah, I have a bit of a cushion, one I’d share with you if you’d let me, but you won’t.”

I huff and resume watching out the window. Peeta’s mother has been looking for evidence that I want Peeta for his money since the day she found out about me. But I don’t say that to Peeta. I don’t say anything, I just stare into the night as the streetlights stretch farther and farther apart until the only light left is the glow of the headlamps on the pavement. When we pass a meadow and enter the woods that span between our town and the next, Peeta hangs a right onto a dirt road. 

Usually, we take his Jeep when we travel off road, but even in four-wheel drive, the old beast would struggle with the grade of the hill we’re climbing now. The new truck, however, handles it just fine and before long, we’re parked in a clearing at the top of a steep hill overlooking the valley where we live. 

Peeta turns off the truck and we watch the twinkling lights below us in silence. A sense of tranquility steals over me. 

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. “I’ve been wanting to bring you up here for awhile. C’mon.” We climb out of the truck and Peeta opens the back door. He rifles through the pile until he pulls out an old blanket I had stuffed in the bathroom linen closet. “Grab some of those cushions,” he directs as he rounds the bed of the truck and lowers the tailgate. 

The pile in the truck turns out to be mostly blankets and pillows, and strangely enough, the cushions off our couch. I grab a couple and pass them up to Peeta, who has spread the blanket on the bedliner. He accepts them gratefully and send me off for more. We work quickly in the dark, me tossing cushions and blankets and pillows up to Peeta until he’s made a cozy bed. I find a cooler on the floor of the truck and hand that up as well.

When I pass him our comforter, he gives me a soft smile, one I haven’t seen since we woke at the beginning of this awful day I wish I could start over. “Get our pillows and get up here,” he instructs. Before long I’m scrambling up beside him. Peeta takes a pillow, settles into the plush surroundings and then holds out his arms to me. I snuggle up beside him, grateful for the armistice. We stare up at the stars and listen to the crickets.

“I really needed a new vehicle, Katniss,” he says into the night.

“I know. I need one too.”

“I thought if I had a truck, we could enjoy the outdoors more -- camping and dates like this in the truck bed, that kind of thing. I know how much you enjoy it.”

He’s right about that. The great outdoors is my natural habitat. My need to be in the woods is as important to my survival as breathing. I chose environmental sciences specifically so I could get outside for at least part of every day. And while Peeta has always been willing to load up his Jeep on a Saturday morning and travel off the beaten path with me, the truck is more powerful and more practical. We’ll be able to do some serious wilderness camping.

But if he were buying a vehicle for his purposes alone, it would be a sporty car or another Jeep. With that thought, I can no longer ignore the obvious.

Peeta bought the truck for me.

“Fuuuuck,” I hiss and bury my face in his shoulder. 

He snorts. “Finally figured it out, did you?”

I nod, but I don’t lift my head. I’m too busy trying to calculate how to contribute to the monthly payments.

“Whatever is going on in your head right now, Katniss, you can just forget about it. It’s my truck, which I decided to buy with my money. You can replace your piece of shit on wheels with a good used car and we’ll have what we need.”

“Peeta, I-”

He puts his finger over my lips. “We are not going to argue about how  _ I _ spend  _ my _ money.”

I open my mouth and close it again. 

“Later I plan to give you shit for doubting me,” he scolds, and then the frown on his face twists into a crooked smile that makes everything alright with the world. And it will be, as long as we have each other. “So,” he pauses, one eyebrow quirking up with mischief. “Now that we’ve settled that, I’ve been thinking about getting you in the back of this truck since the moment I saw it on the lot.”  He urges me on top of him. His hands slide into the back pockets of my jeans, pulling me close enough to feel his erection through his pants. His hands slide down my hips before curling under to stroke the backs my thighs that straddle his. I press myself against him and enjoy his grunt of pleasure before slipping my hands under his shirt and tugging it upwards. 

My tongue flicks across his nipples and then my lips find the spot where his pulse flutters at his throat and I suckle it shamelessly. He gasps a little and my hips grind against him again. Peeta curses, quickly removing my shirt and effortlessly unhooking my bra before tossing it aside. I rise up, gazing down at the man I love, enjoying the way the stars sparkle in his eyes. I continue to grind against his hardness, enjoying the little shock of pleasure it brings. I lick my lips and reach for the button of my jeans.

“I need you to fuck me,” I tell him, drawing down my zipper. The next thing I know, I’m on all fours in the next in the back of the truck, Peeta positioning himself behind me before driving deep inside. 

I let out a low moan of pleasure as we begin to move. The cool night air is tingling against the wet heat clinging to my lower lips. Peeta’s hand snakes around to rub my clit and I buck back against him. In the dead of night, with no one but mother nature as our witness, we are as wild and untamed as any of her creatures. 

His free hand tangles in my hair. I clench around him , milking every bit of pleasure I can as we race toward our destination. I can feel it, just out of reach and I strain toward it as Peeta’s thrusts begin to lose their rhythm. 

“Katniss,” he calls and his touch between my legs becomes both more determined and more frantic. A high-pitched keening noise fills the air as my soul takes flight and Peeta joins me soon after. We fall into a sweaty heap on the pile of blankets.

“Don’t ever doubt me again,” Peeta whispers into my shoulder. “I love you, Katniss. I’m not going anywhere.”

I nod. “I’ll allow it.” I can’t see him from behind me, but I know he’s rolling his eyes. “I love you too, Peeta. And I’m sorry about today.”

He shrugs. “It’s over now. And I should have told you my plans. I figured it would be less complicated if I surprised you.” We both dissolve into snorts of laughter. “Now, tell me about the stars.”

I take his hand in mine and begin to trace the constellations, showing Peeta the daydreams of the ancients, and for the first time all day, I think the truck might actually have been a good idea.

 

 


	10. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated E, NSFW. In Panem, on the train during the Victory Tour.
> 
> Somehow, the ‘stolen’ kisses have turned into real embraces that I’ve enjoyed more than I expected. Holding hands under the table has led to my hand clutching his inner thigh, sliding it upwards to relax him when someone asks an uncomfortable question. The dance steps Effie taught us have turned into snuggling so close that I can trail my lips along his collar. The brushes, the caresses, the kisses that escalate into something I’ve never felt before, always leave a buzzing knot in my belly and kindle a wet heat between my thighs.
> 
> And we’ve discovered only one thing scratches the itch we create.

Peeta and I are the first to get on the train. Tensions were high in District 5 tonight and Effie wants us boarded and gone, pronto.

The dinner was well attended. All the right people were there saying all the right things, but there was an unmistakable vibe coursing through the room tonight - a current of fear mashed with anger and adrenaline. Our team knows the truth now. No matter how many times Peeta and I sneak off the dance floor, no matter how many times we get caught in a corner kissing passionately, we’re never going to convince them our feelings are real.

Except somehow, the ‘stolen’ kisses have turned into real embraces that I’ve enjoyed more than I expected. Holding hands under the table has led to my hand clutching his inner thigh, sliding it upwards to relax him when someone asks an uncomfortable question. The dance steps Effie taught us have turned into snuggling so close that I can trail my lips along his collar.

The brushes, the caresses, the kisses that escalate into something I’ve never felt before, always leave a buzzing knot in my belly and kindle a wet heat between my thighs.

And we’ve discovered only one thing scratches the itch we create.

“In here.”

In the first car, I pull open the door to a bathroom and tug him in behind me. Peeta chuckles.

“Shouldn’t we wait until-“

“Now.” I clutch the lapel of his white suit, dragging his lips to mine. I’m probably ruining his jacket. No matter. They’ve yet to let us wear the same thing twice on this damn tour anyway. And Portia won’t tell. Or at least, she hasn’t yet, although I think she and Cinna suspect that things have changed between Peeta and me.

Peeta tries to slow me down one more time, something about Haymitch, but I won’t have it. I back him against the door and latch my lips to the pulse point in the hollow below his ear. All protest dies after that. His hands find my hips, pulling me snug against him.

Peeta seeks out the zipper of my lace sheath and tugs it down expertly. The dress drops to the floor in a heap, and I’m left before him in scraps of fabric designed to leave no lines beneath the fitted gown. I watch as Peeta’s eyes darken like the night sky at midnight. He curses under his breath and shrugs out of his jacket, his fingers flying to the buttons of his shirt. He struggles with the cuffs, but there’s no time for that. I step between his arms to flick open the button of his slacks and slide down the zipper. The white pants were such a beautiful contrast to my dark lacy attire, designed to be alluring without revealing any of my secrets.

But Peeta knows all of my secrets anyway, sometimes before I even know them myself. His pants now cast aside, he settles me between his legs as we lean against the door. I can feel how much he wants this pressing through his shorts and I grind against the bulge, teasing us both. His lips find mine, sipping slowly. They are sweet like the desserts we sampled at dinner and his breath smells like the wine they served while we danced.

I am not in the mood to slowly savour Peeta tonight. I am ravenous and tug on his lower lip before dropping lower to bite his neck.

“Don’t leave a mark,” he warns. “The preps-“

“Would be delighted,” I chuckle, but move on to flick my tongue over the tight nubs of his nipples beneath his open shirt. He sucks in a sharp breath and I run my fingers over them as I move slowly downward following the trail of golden hair to the hem of his boxers. His hands find my shoulders, pressing me down to my knees and my fingers hook inside his shorts pulling them down as I kneel.

His cock is thick and hot. I wrap my hand around it, pumping slowly, relishing the way his head falls back against the door, eyes closed, his lips parted slightly.

“Suck it, Katniss, please,” Peeta begs. I start at the base, just above his balls, running the flat of my tongue up the shaft, tracing around the head before taking him inside my mouth. He exhales on a soft groan, the sound a mixture of relief and greed that ruins my panties. I hollow my cheeks, lowering down, taking as much of him in as I can. He makes another noise of approval and then I begin to move, fucking him with my mouth as his hips rock in time with my actions. His hands seek my hair, but I swat them away.

“Don’t mess it up. They’ll know for sure.”

He groans again as I take him even deeper, picking up speed. My breasts grow heavier with every pass. I palm them through my bra, seeking relief. Peeta curses and urges me up off the floor.

“Sit on the counter,” he orders, and I comply, spreading my legs for the treat that I know I’m about to receive. He gets down between my legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling the tiny thong aside and admiring the bare skin and swollen pink flesh beneath. He runs his finger slowly along the cleft between my legs, stopping for only seconds to circle my clit. My head falls back and my breath shallows in my chest. “Tell me what you want, Katniss. I need to hear it.”

This is the hard part for a girl who’s no good with words, but Peeta needs them and understands their power.

“Lick me,” I say, and dig deep for the rest. “I want you to go down on me.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up; his pink tongue flicks over his bottom lip and then he leans in to taste me. Heat engulfs me as his tongue swirls around the pink bud and then strokes me from top to bottom. He slips it inside me, and my hips cant in time with his ministrations. Peeta has many talents but he only shares this one with me. I mutter his name and he looks up, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“Feel good?”

“Uh-huh,” I gasp.

He gives me a wicked smile and then draws my clit into his mouth. I’m consumed with need as he tugs at the core of my pleasure. I ride his face and the ache building inside me threatens to burst from every pore.

A stuttering groan falls from my lips. Sparks of electricity fly down my spine. I screw up enough courage to tell him I want him to come with me before sliding to the floor. I turn around and brace myself on the counter.

“Get inside me now,” I tell him and he slides himself home.

Peeta’s lips latch onto the nape of my neck while he waits for me to adjust.

Outside, the train hisses and the door slams closed. I listen to Effie’s chatter and Haymitch’s grunts in reply as they make their way past the bathroom to the lounge car.

The train chugs slowly forward and Peeta begins to move. The pressure answers something primal inside me and I voice my approval.

“Yes.”

With each lurch of the train, Peeta plunges his cock inside me and I rise to meet him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant. The lights of the city flash past the window as we speed away from yet another hellish night. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Revolution? Our deaths? Our families’?

But for now, there’s this. And there’s Peeta.

My muscles clench, preparing for the release I know is imminent. Peeta presses down on my back, urging me lower so he can strike the spot that will make me fly.

“You almost there,” he asks through gritted teeth.

I nod frantically. “Faster. Harder.”

Unleashed, Peeta pounds against me and I call out my approval – _Yes, more, yes_ – until the universe explodes behind my eyelids and Peeta moans in release.

As soon as we catch our breaths, we scramble back into our clothes. His cum slips down my thigh as we sneak towards the car where our rooms are located.

“I’ll shower. Get my pyjamas,” Peeta says when we reach my door.

“Then you’ll come back, stay with me?” I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I can't face the night, can't face any of the hell they're putting us through, without him beside me. He nods and kisses my forehead, then rubs his thumb against my cheek.

“See you soon.”

I watch as he makes his way down the aisle to his door. Then, I let myself into my room and climb into the shower to wash away the Capitol and await his return.


	11. I'm Too Sober For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she loses a bet to Jo, Katniss is forced to pay up in a way she doesn't expect. Rated M, because almost nothing that involves Jo should be rated less than that. Written for my friend @mega-aulover in response to the prompt: I'm too sober for this.

“I’m too sober for this.”

Katniss is scowling at me and it’s all I can do not to laugh. Instead, I tuck a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and lower my lips until they barely brush the lobe. “Now, now,” I whisper, knowing her reluctance is really just her modesty and nerves shining through. “It’s not like Katniss Everdeen to welch on a bet.”

The scowl grows deeper and her lip curls up. “I’m not welching on this bet, even if Johanna cheated.”

Whether or not Johanna actually cheated has been a subject of great debate between the two of of them leading up to tonight. The bet, born in a moment of  madness that only three weeks of tending bar in the Christmas season can create, was a simple one. Each argued she was the best bartender in the upscale pub where we work.  

“They come in here to see me, Brainless,” argued Johanna. 

“They come in here because I mix the best drinks around,” replied Katniss, whipping her braid over her shoulder.

Personally, I think they come for the food, but chose wisely to stay in the kitchen, plating some of my barbecued chicken nachos - the ones with thinly sliced dill pickles and feta cheese that people beg for.

Finnick, who works with me in the kitchen, dragged us into it anyway. “Why don’t you girls make a bet,” he suggested through the pass-through. “Whoever earns the most in tips this week is the best bartender.”

From my spot at the prep table, I watched Katniss nod. “Sounds good to me,” she agreed. 

“No, that’s not enough,” countered Johanna. “The loser also has to perform one task of the winner’s choice.”

“Agreed,” said Katniss, and the girls shook hands.

Now, Katniss owns my whole heart, but even I know that  she doesn’t exactly have a sparkling personality. My girl has lots of fire, just not the kind that charms spare cash out of people’s pockets. But given that Johanna’s personality is even more acerbic, I figured Katniss had a pretty good shot at the whole deal.

We set up a tally in the kitchen. Every night after closing, the girls emptied the pockets of their aprons and Finn counted it. I offered to help, but Johanna said I couldn’t be trusted not to throw a few extra bucks in just to put Katniss over the top. 

The first night, Katniss beat her fair and square. The second night, Johanna showed up with the neck of her t-shirt cut so deeply there was almost nothing left to the imagination. The third night, she wore a push up bra and practically spilled out of the top. 

On the fourth night, Katniss snarled that the sign over the door said the Hob, not Hooters. “If you can’t beat me fair and square Mason, you can’t beat me at all.”

Johanna just shook her arse in the booty shorts she’d put on when she arrived at work. “We didn’t set any limits on how we make those tips, Brainless. Feel free to slut it up. Blondie in there won’t mind.”

“Leave me out of this, Jo,” I called, putting a Mellark Mayhem burger with kettle chips on the pass. 

“I’ll keep my self respect, thanks,” Katniss groused to Jo, then smiled so brightly at her next customer that I suspect it probably caused them both pain.

Each night, Katniss brought in a healthy amount in tips, but Jo’s total continued to climb and climb. In the end, Katniss had to concede, albeit not gracefully. “I think the only think we’ve established is who is the biggest tramp,” she complained.

Jo’s dark eyes glittered. “And now for the agreed upon task. You, Brainless, will sing at our Christmas party, in an outfit and to song of my choosing.”

“Fine,” Katniss muttered, apparently not realizing what she’d just gotten herself into. 

Which brings us here, to the little closet that passes for the Hob’s green room. And to Katniss, in a silver sequin bra and short red skirt. Jo was wrong, I mind others seeing her in this state of undress. Still, that doesn’t stop my hand from sliding up her leg and slipping under her skirt. 

“You know, if you’d rather not go out there, we could just stay in here,” I mutter, my hand gliding around to her inner thigh so I can sneak my fingers into her panties. 

Katniss’s eyes close as she entertains the idea, her lips parted slightly. It’s more than a bit thrilling to know they’re all out there. I could just push up the skirt, get down on my knees-

She bats my hand away and jams a Santa hat on her head instead. Her hair, curled and lose for the occasion falls about her shoulders. “No, I’m going to get this over with,” she insists grimly.

“Fine,” I acquiesce, not a little disappointed. She looks so sexy it hurts. “Just like we practiced, okay? I’ll be down in front.”

The corner of her mouth tilts up slightly. “Then we’ll go home and do the other things we practiced.”

I pull her to me and steal one more kiss. “Give me two minutes to get in position.”

Exactly two minutes later, I’m sitting at the table our gang comandeered. Jo is rubbing her hands together in glee. Finn has the decency to look a bit concerned. “Is Katniss holding up alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” I reply calmly, and then there she is, in front of the mic, her grey eyes filled with fire. She looks down at me and the music starts. Not only is my girl not going to back down, she’s going to kill it.

Her hand trails over the curve of her exposed breast and then she strokes the microphone. “Santa baby…”


	12. I Think You're Afraid to be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a drabble request: I think you're afraid to be happy. Rated T.

“I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

“Excuse me?” My baby sister snorts at my incredulous stare. Her turned up nose wrinkles adorably, or at least it would be, if she weren’t being so obnoxious.

“I’m serious, Katniss,” she says, stirring her margarita. “You always do this. You meet a guy. You spend a little time with him and then-”

“You find a way to blow it, Brainless,” interrupts Johanna, and Madge and Delly wince.

Madge covers her hand with mine. Her blue eyes are filled with kindness. “It's more like you deliberately choose guys who will never work out,” she consoles.

I look around the table at the women who are supposed to be my best friends. We planned this girl’s night to help me get over a break-up by drinking our faces off and singing Men Are Slime.

I did not sign up for Pick on Katniss Night.

“I thought you girls were my friends,” I mutter. 

“We’re your very best friends,” Delly asserts, her blonde curls bouncing. “It’s our duty to tell you when you’re sabotaging yourself, and that’s exactly what’s going on here.” The other three turncoats all nod in agreement.

I take another swig of my jack and coke. “What is this, an intervention?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you wake up,” says Jo. “This last one, Darius, was a total player. And I think you knew that.”

I did know that, but I don’t acknowledge it. I just stir my drink with the useless little straw that the bartender always sticks in there.  “I wasn’t looking for anything serious with Darius,” I tell them.

“And Marvel was-”

“Gay,” Jo says, interrupting Prim. “Firmly in the closet until you came along, Brainless, but completely and totally gay.”

“He was sweet,” I insist.

Delly shakes her head at me. “Katniss, he had fabulous shoes. Gay.”

“Cato was alright,” I argue.

“Cato needed to lay off the ‘roids,” said Jo. “Didn’t you tell him it was going to shrink his dick, Katniss? Or maybe it was really little already and you didn’t have the heart to tell him?”

“Shut-up, Jo.” Honestly, I never saw Cato’s dick. My lack of interest in said organ is why we broke up.

“Katniss,” says Prim gently. “Let’s face it. The only decent guy you’ve dated since high school is Gale, and the only people who thought that would work were the two of you.”

“And thank God it didn’t,” laughs Madge, who wears Gale’s ring on her finger. “You two are far too much alike.”

Johanna taps one long, black fingernail on the table thoughtfully. “Maybe we should fix you up, Brainless. You can’t seem to pick one out for yourself.”

All the other girls look at me, waiting for my reaction. Unlike Jo, who I met when she first moved in next door, the other women have all known me since forever. They know there was another guy. A perfectly decent guy. And I sent him on his away. I had to, or he’d never have gone to culinary school. He’d have stayed here, slaving in the bakery his father owns instead of coming back to run it.

“You know, Katniss, he’s moving back to town next month,” says Delly, his cousin. “He finished his apprenticeship and is coming back to take over the bakery.”

“Who?” says Jo.

“I saw him on Facebook the other day, Katniss,” urges Prim. “He looks great.”

“You’re on Peeta’s Facebook?” I ask. This feels like a betrayal somehow, but my sister just shrugs.

“You’re the one who broke up with him, Katniss,” she says, “not me.”

“Who the hell is this guy?” Jo demands.

“Katniss’s high school boyfriend,” says Delly. “My cousin, Peeta Mellark. Just about the nicest guy you’d ever meet.”

“And not hard on the eyes,” says Madge. “And captain of the wrestling team.”

Jo grabs Prim’s phone off the table and shoves it at her. “Quick, pull up this dude’s Facebook profile. I gotta see him.”

I bury my face in my hands. I do not want to see Peeta, not even his digital image. It will just bring it all back.

“Here,” says Prim, passing the phone to Jo.

My punky, spunky friend whistles long and low. “You broke up with him? You really are Brainless.”

“I had too,” I insist. “He had too much going for him to stay here.”

“You’re going to contact him,” Jo says.

“No. No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Katniss, he’ll be back next month. You’re going to run into him,” Madge urges.

Jo is still scrolling through his profile. “How do I… There.” She taps the screen again. “ _ Hi Peeta, I was just talking to Katniss. She wants you to call her. Her number is- _ ”

I jump up and lunge for the phone. “Oh no you don’t!”

“ _ 917-454-2873 _ . Send.”

I fall into my chair. “I can’t believe you just did that. I can’t believe…” My heart is filled with panic. “Prim, please. Please write him and tell him that was a mistake. Right now.”

My little sister hesitates and then she makes a decision. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Prim,” I beg.

“You can’t keep going on like this, Katniss. You need closure.”

“I’ve had closure for years,” I mutter. “I ended it, remember?”

In my purse, my phone begins to ring. I pretend not to hear it.

“If that’s true,” muses my sister, “why don’t you answer that phone?”

  
  



	13. I Hate How Much I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has had it with Peeta's co-workers, especially the one he used to date. Prompt request on tumblr for angry sex. The prompts were: 'I hate how much I love you' and 'You're fucking hot when you're mad'. Rated E.

Katniss’s hand shakes as she shoves her key in the lock. She needs to get inside. She needs to shut the door on this horrible evening. 

Once inside, she tosses her key in the glass bowl on the table in the entryway and kicks her sky-high heels into the corner. Exhaling slowly, she runs through the list of things she has to do: call Prim, pack her things, leave the ring on the dresser. 

She has her first armload of clothes pulled out of the closet when the front door slams.

“Katniss!”

She doesn’t answer, dumping the clothes in the suitcase instead, then turning to go back for some more.

“Katniss! Damnit! Where are you?”

She is not going to talk to him. She is not. This is the end and she is getting out of there. Giving up on her closet, she yanks open the top drawer of her dresser and pulls out everything she can reach. She dumps that on the pile in the suitcase. 

“Katniss?” Peeta appears in the doorframe, his blonde hair standing on end and his eyes wild with panic. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ignoring him, she slams the top drawer closed and opens the next one. Peeta knocks her arm out of the way and gets between her and the drawer. She turns on her heel and makes for the closet again. Peeta cuts her off.

“Will you please talk to me? What the fuck is going on?”

“Get out of the way, Peeta.”

“No, not until you explain this. After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think I at least deserve an explanation before you fucking leave me?”

She wants to cover her ears and scream. Instead, she settles for pulling her hair.  “I hate how much I love you!”

Peeta’s blue eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What? What the hell does that mean?”

She shoves at him, trying to get him to move out of the way so she can finish packing. When he doesn’t, she settles for throwing the items she’s already stuffed in the suitcase at him. 

“I. Fucking. Hate. How much. I. Love. You!” Each word is punctuated with another item thrown at his head. “I am so sick of putting myself through this! Of attending those god-awful industry parties with you, Peeta! So tired of watching those bimbos you work with rubbing themselves all over you!”

“Katniss, you know I’m a photographer. I can’t help that I have to work with models.”

“I’m standing right there, Peeta. Right there! And they’re mauling you like I don’t even exist.”

Peeta yanks at his tie and throws it on the bed. “It’s the industry! That’s the way they are. I don’t touch them, Katniss,” he yells. “I don’t encourage them and I don’t cheat!”

She shoves him again. “You don’t discourage them either, especially Glimmer!”

“I don’t want Glimmer!” he shouts, outraged at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He captures her wrists in his hands. “I just want you!”

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she taunts.

He stares down at her like he’s seeing her for the first time that night. She’d dressed so carefully for that stupid party, wearing the navy sheath that sparkled when she moved, with the neckline that plunged almost to her belly button. It’s an original Cinna Fieri, hand chosen for her by the designer himself. 

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” he husks, and his blue eyes darken and glitter like sapphires. “We almost didn’t get out of the house tonight, you looked so good and now-” 

Still grasping her wrists, Peeta yanks her closer, keeping her hands down by their sides as he plunders her mouth, biting her lower lip before descending upon her neck, letting go of one hand only long enough to slip it inside the neckline of her dress. 

“Bloody hell,” he sighs when his hand closes over the soft mound. “You don’t have a bra on.” 

“No lines,” she gasps as his lips replace his hand. She buries her free hand in his hair, holding him in place, her back arching to give him better access. Peeta’s other hand releases her still bound wrist to slide over her ass and he curses again. Before she knows it, the dress is on the floor and he’s tossing her on the bed, the suitcase shoved to the floor.

“You were walking around all night fucking naked under this dress,” he snarls, as he kneels before her. “You never told me.”

“You were too busy with those other women,” she snaps.

“Never,” he argues, running his finger along her exposed slit before driving his finger inside her. She moans and arches against him. His thumb traces her pleasure point in circles. “I’ve been a goner since the day we met, Katniss.” He unbuckles his trousers and shoves down his boxers. His cock springs free, erect and throbbing. Her legs fall open to receive him and he aligns himself with her core, swiftly driving himself home. 

The invasion bring both pleasure and pain as she adjusts to his girth. He slides out slowly and then pushes in again, before lowering himself on his elbows and pressing his lips to hers. She welcomes him, twisting her tongue around his own, even as he drives himself into her over and over again - the initial burn of adjustment replaced by the slick heat of their coupling.

Beneath the passion of his love making, she feels the subtle simmer of his anger, his actions slightly selfish and more demanding than usual. This Peeta does not ask. He does not wait. He takes what he needs and makes her like it. 

But she does not like that he is still mostly clothed. She can’t touch his skin, run her fingers through the downy hair across his breast bone. Hooking her leg around his good one, she turns them so that he is on his back and makes short work of the buttons of his shirt, flicking his nipples with her thumbs and bracing herself and against his firm stomach as she rides them both into oblivion. 

After, the room is silent save for their sharp pants as they catch their breath and the soft hum of the ceiling fan above their heads. Peeta kicks his pants to the floor and she lays on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Katniss wonders how she’ll ever get over this man. 

“Katniss,” he says finally, “please don’t go. You know it’s over between Glimmer and me. It’s been over for a long time.”

“I don’t think she knows that, Peeta,” Katniss mutters, flashing back to the ugly words she’d overheard in the ladies’ room that night. “She thinks you’re her ticket to fame and I’m an inconvenience she can just flick her finger and be rid of. And you encourage it by continuing to work with her.”

Peeta rubs his hand over his face. “Katniss, she’s in huge trouble. No one else wants to work with her because she’s so temperamental and spoiled. And then there’s the drugs…” His voice trails off and then he takes a deep breath. “I just don’t want to be the one who puts an end to her career.” Truly, Katniss doesn’t care whether Glimmer ends up on skidrow, but she knows that Peeta does. He might not love that wench anymore, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for her final downfall. “I thought bringing you with me would enough. I’ll keep you close next time,” he promises. 

“There won’t be a next time. I meant it when I said I hated those parties, Peeta. I despise the entire industry. The people, the phoniness. It’s awful. I can’t take it anymore. And I can’t be with someone who wants that.” 

“Katniss, no,” he pleads, and pulls her to him, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She buries her face in his chest and inhales deeply, soaking up the spicy scent that is inherently Peeta. “Stay with me,” he begs, cradling her face in his hands. His eyes are shiny. He kisses her cheeks, her forehead, her nose; wipes away a tear she didn’t know was on her cheek.  “I’ll step away from fashion. I’ll shoot more commercial. Families. Puppies. Whatever it takes. I can’t lose you.”

She tries again to imagine a life without Peeta and knows that she’ll be broken beyond repair without him. “I’ll stay,” she agrees.

“Always?”

“Always.”


	14. Five Times Katniss Fails to Say I Love You and One Time She Doesn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon, Post-Mockingjay. Written in response to the prompt: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares the crap out of me." Rated G.

1\. Katniss swipes the fog from the bathroom mirror and says the words out loud for the very first time. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares the crap out of me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has died or left me and if you were gone, I might give up. I almost did the last time I lost you.”

She can feel herself choking up and a single tear escapes. Furious with herself, she swipes it away. Two years ago, she would never have dreamed that she and Peeta would be ever well enough to speak of love. She will not allow her happy moment to be stolen by the past. She will not.

* * *

 

2\. The next night, she practices saying it in the shower. “I think we were meant to be, Peeta. I’ve watched you, kept track of you. Even before the bread, I knew who you were and I knew things about you. Maybe I didn’t know it was love then, but I know it now.”

She scoffs. That is just not good enough.

* * *

 

3\. “Peeta, you love me and I love you. Why don’t you just make some bread and we’ll toast it?”

Her expression in the reflection in the mirror is grim. Clearly, she has no gift for comedy. She’ll have to keep trying.

* * *

 

4\. In the steamy bathroom, she rubs the ointment from the new medicine factory into her scars. It keeps them soft and the redness is slowly fading away. They could probably make them disappear in the Capitol, but she’s not allowed there. She doesn’t want to go there either. And anyway, her scars seem to line up with Peeta’s. It’s another sign that they’re a pair and she kind of likes that, even if she’d rather not have proof that they’re damaged goods out there for everyone to see.

“I know I’m not perfect,” she says as she rubs her arm. “I’m not even the person I used to be, but I’m in love with you.”

No, that won’t do either. Peeta deserves more than a consolation prize.

* * *

 

5\. She grips the sink and stares into the mirror again. “Remember, on the train, when you asked me if it was all for the cameras and I said yes? I lied. Well, not really. I just didn’t understand what I was feeling for you. I wasn’t sure I could love anyone other than Prim. And then the lie got increasingly control and my feelings just kept getting more and more mixed up. But now that’s it’s all over, I can tell you. I love you, Peeta, and I think that you and I were always meant to be together. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”  
They feel right, these words. A tremor passes through her and she swallows. She can do this. Once upon a time, she was fierce, beautiful and brave. Peeta deserves to hear the actual words pass through her lips. He will be so happy to hear her say it. But still, her hand trembles on the door knob and by the time she steps into their bedroom, she’s already changed her mind. Maybe she’ll say it tomorrow night.

Peeta is sitting up in bed, absorbed in yet another book from the new district library. A pair of glasses are perched on his nose. He just needs them for reading. His doctor thinks that his captors damaged his eyesight when he was being held prisoner. He glances up and their eyes lock.

“You know I can hear you in there, right?”

The bottom falls out of her stomach and she shakes her head. She should have thought of that, obviously. She knows how thin the walls are in this house. Well, there’s nothing to do now but say it. She squares her shoulders and bares her heart.

“I love you.”


	15. You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen. ‘Cause guess what? It did.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answer to a prompt from @dandelion-sunset on Tumblr: "You can't keep pretending it didn't happen, 'cause guess what? I did! Rated T, Modern AU.

"Can we talk about this please?”

“Nope.” I stalk down the hall to my room and shut the door in her face.

Prim bangs on my door, brimming with teenage outrage at being dismissed. “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, Katniss. ‘Cause guess what? It did!”

“La, la, la. Not listening,” I sing under my breath, not that I’m taking any of this lightly. It’s just a coping mechanism I developed  years ago for dealing with Prim. She's still flailing away out there, but I continue to ignore her, digging instead through the jumbled pile of assignments and journal articles on my desk. When I finally manage to turn up my headphones, I jam them on. Florence and the Machine is playing in a continuous loop on my ipod right now and it’s just the thing for this little problem I’m having. I turn it up. Loud. Then, I jam the little device into my pocket. I need something, anything, to distract me because I can not think about it. Every time I do, my blood pressure rises a few more notches. There’s a very real possibility my head is going to explode.

Desperate for something to do, I pull my quiver from my bedroom closet and sit on my bed to inspect each of my arrows. I check for loose heads, then stare down each delicate shaft to ensure there are no cracks. I make sure the nooks are secure and the fletchings are all in place. Once they pass my scrutiny, I take up the bow and, using a soft piece of flannel, polish it in a slow arc, watching for signs of wear, rubbing out thumbprints and wiping away bits of dirt. When it gleams, I check the string. It is perfect.

I throw the quiver and bow over my back and swing open my bedroom door.

Prim is still standing there, apparently also still yelling. I can’t help but shake my head, then I point to the headphones.indicating that I can’t hear her. She stomps her foot and shakes her finger at me, her mouth still moving angrily.

I sigh and slide the headphones off. “What?”

She barely stops for breath. “Why do you have to be so stubborn, Katniss? Can’t you see that-” She breaks off, her eyes wide. “Where are you going with your bow?” she croaks. It seems she’s nearly yelled herself hoarse.

“Out.”

“Out?”

“Yeah, I need to get out of here for a bit.” I push past her, moving toward the kitchen to find snacks to take with me.

“Where are you going?” She sounds a little frantic. I’m not sure I care.

“Not sure.”

She asks if I’m going to the Hawthorne’s and I shrug.

“You can’t,” Prim begs. “Please, Katniss, don’t go there.”

“Gale might want to go down to the range with me.”

“Katniss, you just caught me giving Rory a blow job in the living room. You cannot show up at his house with your bow!”

“And _ there’s _ that thing we’re never going to talk about. Ever again,” I shout firmly and over her protests and my little sister finally shuts up. I guess she knows I mean business. “And since we seem to think we’re all grown up around here, I don’t know why you feel that you have anything to say about what I do.”

She gapes at me like a fish and I stomp out of the house, the kitchen door slapping behind me. I can’t believe she thinks I’d actually shoot him. I’d never do that to Gale. But if Rory Hawthorne wets his pants as I walk up the driveway, I won’t mind.


	16. You're mine. I don't share.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to two prompt from @elricsister on Tumblr "You're getting crumbs all over the bed" and "You're mine. I don't share." Rated G.

It’s texture is smooth, like satin. It’s warmer than I expected and it calls to me, begging me to put it in my mouth.   
  
I take my time bringing it to my lips, appreciating its salty flavour on my tongue.   
  
“You are getting crumbs all over the bed,” complains Peeta, as he wanders into our room to grab his sketchpad from his bedside table.   
  
“Don’t care,” I mutter, my mouth full of cheese bun. “The belly is hungry.”   
  
He pauses on his way out the door, one eyebrow raised over those baby blues that I love so much. “You ate the entire batch. Willow is going to be mad that you didn’t leave her at least one.”   
  
I shrug. The cheese bun cravings have been a little out of control this month. “You can make more.”   
  
He shakes his head. “You could have at least cut it in half.”   
  
“Peeta! Pregnant woman here!” He huffs and leaves the room. Moments later, I hear the crashing of bowls and pans in the kitchen. He’s making more, bless him.   
  
“You’re mine,” I say to my cheese bun. “I don’t share.”


End file.
